


Midnight

by thankyouturtle



Category: Batgirl (Comic), Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouturtle/pseuds/thankyouturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Steph play at Cinderella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> For [discowing](http://discowing.tumblr.com), who thinks fandom needs more Dick/Steph.

“I thought undercover meant wearing disguises.”

Dick glanced across at the young woman sitting next to him. It wasn’t a complaint; there was a smile playing on her lips, although only a small one, as if she wasn’t sure yet whether he even had a sense of humour. His own fault, really. He’d certainly been humourless in his dealing with her, so far.

“We are,” he told her. “Technically. I don’t look much like Batman at the moment.”

“And I don’t look much like Batgirl,” she returned sweetly, “Right?”

It was a dig, although he pretended not to notice. No, he hadn’t been exactly - welcoming to Steph so far. Babs had accused him of being decidedly Bruce-ish, in fact, which had stung in more ways than one. But Steph had helped to save his life, last week. Maybe she was more tactical than strategic, and maybe she lacked the planning and precision that Bruce had expected from his subordinates - but Bruce was gone, and Batgirl had never really been about following Batman’s orders, anyway. That’s what he needed, tonight, someone who could hold their own, someone who would understand the mission but go their own way.

And, if he was being honest, someone who looked like she might be Richard Grayson’s new love interest. Damian was improving every day, but there were very few circumstances under which taking a ten year old boy as your date was acceptable. “Was the munchkin sulking that you weren’t taking him tonight?” Steph asked, as if following his train of thought.

“No,” Dick replied, thoughtlessly adding, “I told him he was experienced enough not to have to spend his time on a job like this.”

“Gee, Mr Grayson,” Steph drawled, “You sure know how to flatter a girl.” Dick grimaced.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” There was silence for a moment, then Steph said, indifferently, “He seems to be doing pretty well, you know. As Robin, I mean. I think you’re really good for him. It makes me wonder-” She stopped.

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder what I’m meant to do at a ball. Everything I know about balls comes from Cinderella, and if Alfred turns into a pumpkin at midnight I am going to be so pissed. Have you tasted his waffles?”

“Thank you, Miss Stephanie,” came floating back to them from the driver’s seat.

“Relax,” Dick said. “A ball’s just like a prom-”

“Didn’t go to prom,” Steph responded promptly. “I was all pretending to be dead. And the year before that I was pregnant and spent the evening finding out the totally cool married man I was going to give my baby to was actually planning on leaving his wife and thought that I had a crush on him.”

“I’m so-” Dick began, and then, “Wait, isn’t that the plot of Juno?” Donna had only made him watch it four times.

“Is it? I always get the two of us confused.”

Dick shook his head, but he found that he was grinning. "It's easy, Steph. Just hang onto my arm and giggle a lot until we figure out what's going on."

"My official duties as arm candy. Got it." She batted her eyelashes at him, and this time he actually laughed out loud.

The car slowed. They were arriving at their destination, the New Gotham Art Museum, which was indeed throwing a ball for its platinum patrons to celebrate its newest acquisition - a golden pendant handcrafted in 18th Century France, believed to have been made for Robespierre himself. It was also reputed to have been used in black magic ceremonies through the years, its owners a veritable who's who of villainous witches and warlocks. oracle had intercepted various reports which suggested that Gotham's own were taking an interest in it, and Dick had spent some time studying the photos of the pendant's intricate design, looking for something that might tell him who was after it. He hadn't, and Oracle had been unable to dig out any more information - no who, and no how. Eventually, Dick had decided that this could not be a simple solo mission - and besides, it was really time he and Steph did a little bonding.

"No, stay seated," Dick told her now as she made a move to get out of the car. "You can't even imagine what the gossip papers will make of it if I let my date get out of the car unassisted." It would have been impossible for Steph's eyebrows to go any higher, but she stayed where she was until Dick arrived to open the passenger door for her. She slid gracefully out of the car, then stumbled slightly and grabbed onto his arm to steady herself.

"It's these glass shoes," she told him, a wicked glint in her eye. "Can't seem to get the hang of them."

He laughed again, just in time for the cameras to start flashing. "Who says that you're Cinderella? I could be Cinderella."

"Oh, I know. Cass told me all about your pantomime." Steph glanced nevously at the paparazzi - she wasn't used to people taking so much interest in her, Dick realised. "I'm definitely Cinderella tonight, though." She wrapped her both her arms around his right one, an appropriately affectionate gesture for the onlookers and the gossip magazines. Maybe she wasn't so nervous after all. The clicking of cameras increased. Dick knew that they were making a very attractive pair, him in his tuxedo, her in the dark blue strapless dress which Dick had insisted on - he'd vetoed the her first choice, a short and slinky purple number. "You're..."

"Prince Charming?"

"More like an ugly step-sister. Prince Charming isn't supposed to know who I am."

Dick pretended to pout as he escorted her up the granite steps, towards the museum foyer. "I've never been accused of being ugly before."

"Wicked step-mother, then," was the prompt reply, "And don't tell me you're never wicked, Dick." That smile was playing on her lips again, and she was giving him an unreadable look through long lashes. Was she... flirting with him? And then the look was gone, her attention diverted. "Oooh, are those mini blintzes?" She let go of his arm and had disappeared into the whirl of elegant bodies in a moment. Dick gazed after her, wanting to remind her that they weren't just here to have fun, but a pointed tap on his shoulder stopped him.

"Richie, darling. You never told me you were seeing someone else."

"Sofia! Who told you I was seeing anyone?" And Dick found himself delicately handling the feelings of a woman who was feeling rightfully scorned. Luckily - or perhaps unluckily - he'd been in this situation enough times to know that all Sofia really wanted to hear was an apology, and that he could do while scanning the room. The pendant was about as secure as it could be while on display, two solidly built security guards on either side of the glass box that held it. More burly men posted at every entrance, even at the corridor leading off to the restrooms - the gallery wasn't taking any chances.

"- no phone call, and now you turn up with a girl who is barely legal - I can tell when someone is still a teenager, Richie! What am I supposed to think?"

"I can't tell you what you're supposed to think, Sofia," Dick said in what he hoped was a voice more charming than wicked. "But if I were you, I'd be thinking that I deserved better than a man who stood me up and never apologised. Although, for what it's worth - I am sorry. I should have realised how much I'd hurt you."

Sofia's severe look softened, just as Steph reappeared. The younger woman glanced between Dick and Sofia, and then said, "Erm." Sofia gave her a smile that was only slightly chilly.

"It's alright, we've finished," she said. "I will stop monopolising your boyfriend, now."

"Oh, we're not together," Steph told Sofia blithely. "I think of him more as my step-m-"

"Didn't you promise me a dance?" Dick broke in.

"Did I?" Steph looked confused, then, "Oh, yes. Of course."

He lead her into the middle of the room, a little away from the other dancers but not so far that the distance would be noticeable. He placed one hand around her waist, meaning to give the appearance of intimacy, but Steph slid her hand up his chest and stood on tiptoe so she could whisper into his ear. He hoped she didn't notice his pulse suddenly quicken. "There's definitely something a little weird going on," she murmured, her breath tickling his cheek. "I noticed at least four different women wearing exactly the same necklace."

Dick didn't waste any time telling her that that didn't mean anything. The women that came to these sorts of events *didn't* wear the same jewelry. They wore heirlooms, or million-dollar special orders. "These necklaces - what do they look like?" Steph looked surprised.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously what?"

She pursed her lips, then gently grasped his free hand and flipped it over so he could see the symbol she drew on his palm. Dick definitely did not notice how light her touch was against his bare skin.

"I've never seen it before," she admitted.

"I have." Dick nodded towards the golden pendant.

"So what's the plan?"

"Let them make the first move. We don't know how many of them there are, and they'd be stupid not to expect some kind of a welcoming party." She'd let go of his hand; now he took hers. "Steph..."

But what he would have said was lost when they both simultaneously noticed the five women with glowing red eyes.

***

Some time later they were both standing on the museum's roof, watching from the shadows as the police lead away a string of city councillors in handcuffs.

"That was awesome," Steph enthused. "Did you see their faces when they realised that wasn't even the real pendant? Of course, then they summoned that floating demon thing-"

"A spirited defence," Dick cracked. Steph groaned and punched his arm. "I liked the way you took him out with that Manet. Although possibly the museum won't be quite as happy about it." She winced.

"I only cracked the frame, I think. But I thought it was going to eat you!"

"So did I." Dick smiled, to show that he wasn't angry or disappointed, and then he added, "I'm glad you were here." He was being completely honest, saying that, but Steph's response surprised him. She gave him that wide-eyed, surprised look again, before ducking her head, and neither one of them said anything for five long minutes. Steph stared at her hands; Dick was watching the trail of panda cars wind its way back towards the inner city.

Steph was the one who finally broke the silence. "Before-" she began, "I wasn't actually wondering what to do at a ball."

"I realised that much." Dick looked at her, but she still wasn't meeting his gaze. "What were you wondering, then?"

"I was wondering - what would have happened if you'd been Batman when I'd been Robin. I wanted Bruce's approval so much, you know. I *needed* it, and he didn't have any patience, not for someone like me. But you - I see you with Damian, and I know he's got just as much to learn as I did. And you're so patient with him. Maybe if I'd had you, things would have been - different."

She looked at him then, wary but defiant. "We do make a pretty good team," Dick said, not sure what else he should say. "And things would have been different, if I'd been the one to take you on instead of Bruce. I don't know if they'd have been any better, though. You're Batgirl, now - that's a whole different ballgame, compared to Robin. Maybe if things had worked out for you then, they wouldn't be working out for you now." It sounded like nothing more than a meaningless platitude. if things had worked out before, she'd never have been tortured almost to death. What was being Batgirl next to that? If they'd worked out, maybe he'd have realised he ought to be treating her with respect a little earlier - wouldn't that have been better than the cold shoulder he'd been giving her? He hesitated, not sure he should put his thoughts into words.

And then Steph kissed him. It wasn't the kind of kiss Dick was used to, an aggressive assertion of dominance, or a tender reminder of love and affection. Steph's kiss was like her smile, playful but determined. Almost automatically Dick closed his eyes and put his hands on her hips, pulling her body closer. Her lips were soft and warm, a stark contrast to the hard muscles he could feel underneath the silky material of her dress. His fingers slipped easily down towards her thighs, and he regretted arguing her out of the cocktail dress she'd wanted to wear. The skirt on this one was too long - and he finally had to content himself with reaching up to touch her face, his thumbs massaging her cheeks. He was all too aware that she was gripping him almost too tightly, that her breasts were now rubbing very comfortably against his chest.

Steph broke the kiss off before he did. "Sorry," she said breathlessly, stepping away from him.

"Don't be sorry-"

"No, I mean - sorry. You're definitely more Prince Charming than Wicked Step-mother."

Even under the dim roof lights he could see her face was far pinker than usual. Was she embarassed? "We should go down," he told her, his voice soft. "Alfred will be here soon to collect us."

"You go." Steph gave him an awkward smile. "I need a little fresh air. Won't be a sec."

So he left her there, going back through the museum foyer and down the steps. Alfred was already there, patiently waiting in the car. If he noticed that Dick's lips were a little swollen, he didn't say anything, beyond a polite enquiry as to when Miss Stephanie would be joining them.

"She isn't far away," Dick reassured him. "She'll be here in a moment."

It wasn't until he glanced down at his watch just in time to see all three hands pointing at the 12 that he realised Cinderella had left him for the night.


End file.
